


Run

by kiss_the_apex



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: A bit vague, Although never mentioned by name, Implied Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 23:29:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21044570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiss_the_apex/pseuds/kiss_the_apex
Summary: He runs a lot. Running helps soothe the mind, they say. ‘They’ don’t know jack shit, he thinks. Because running doesn’t soothe his mind, not at all. His name is Sebastian Vettel, he is a four-time Formula 1 world champion, and he runs. (a very old fic)





	Run

**Author's Note:**

> This was written (mostly) in 2014. I found it last week and finished it, and it brought back a lot of stuff and yeah. Also I have not been here in years, and everything is different. Set in 2013.

He runs a lot.

Running helps soothe the mind, they say.

_‘They’ don’t know jack shit,_ he thinks.

Because running doesn’t soothe his mind, not at all.

His name is Sebastian Vettel, he is a four-time Formula 1 world champion, and he runs.

\---------------------

“I hate running.” 

Seb slumped down in his chair and pouted, an exaggerated petulant jut of his bottom lip. He’d rather do anything else. Swimming. Cycling. Anything but running. His gangly legs simply were not made to run.

“You will run. It’s good for you.”

When he scowled and made no movement to get up he found him being _pulled_ upwards, a hand wrapped all the way around his wrist and yanking him skywards until he was standing. Sebastian’s eyes widened, the pout sucked back into his mouth with a gasp.

“We are going running.”

It wasn’t a suggestion, it was a command. The hand was still around his wrist. Long fingers circling his bones and veins and flesh.

“On a treadmill?” 

A foolish hope.

“Outside, there’s a whole forest out there. It’s really quite beautiful.”

Ugh. Sometimes he would say things like that, in his subtly accented voice, trying to sound so very English. It made Seb squirm.

“But I hate it.”

“You hate a lot of things.”

“_Especially_ this.”

And the hand that was wrapped around his wrist tightened and _dragged_ him forwards, it’s owner apparently bored with Sebastian’s protests. Seb let himself be dragged, he knew he couldn’t fight it, he would only hurt himself if he tried. So he became pliant and obedient and allowed himself to be pulled along like a small child.

He glowered at himself. He had no voice, no will, nothing.

They ran.

\----------------------------------

He runs alone, now.

Until his lungs are burning and his legs are aching and his body is telling him that he can’t take anymore. Sometimes he even runs past this stage, growling and grunting and screaming each exhaled breath until suddenly he’s face down on the floor with a mouthful of pine needles or dirt or sand. Choking.

Fuck running.

Fuck this.

\--------------------------------

“Stop I… need to… stop!”

The body in front of him stops still and tilts their head towards the sky.

“Sebastian.”

One word. His own name carried over the wind and he feels about ten years old. That exasperated tone, that he’s heard oh so many times before. He’d lost count of how many times that inflection was used with him. It made him feel as young as people were always telling him he looked. He was trying to fix that. Trying to fix himself.

He stopped running. Braced himself against a thick tree trunk with his arms outstretched, shaking and covered in a sheen of sweat. His head bowed, staring at his toes as they seemed to blur below him.

“Two… minutes…”

He heard the pad of footsteps as another pair of feet came to join his own, crunching the dead leaves. He kept his head down, frowning slightly at how small his own feet looked compared to the new pair of shoes that had appeared.

“Two minutes. But that’s it.”

The other feet moved around as their owner leaned with his back against the tree. Sebastian’s right shoe was about two inches away from the other pair. His eyes burned as he stared at the space inbetween, unblinking.

He focussed on his breathing. In. Out. In. Out.

Good.

“Okay your two minutes are up.”

Sebastian groaned loudly.

“Don’t make that sound. Let’s go. Five more miles.”

“Five?!”

“That’s your lucky number, right?”

“Yes, but-”

“Then five it is. Be glad you didn’t choose 99.”

\---------------------------

“I won!”

He can’t breathe, and those two words were such a struggle but he had to. He won.

“Yes well done Seb, here’s your shiny medal.”

They were at the peak of a hill - the challenge being to reach to crest of it first - and for the first time ever, Sebastian had won a running race.

His smile was threatening to split apart his entire face. Of course, he had experience with winning races, but definitely not this kind. Definitely not to do with running.

He slumped to the ground before he could collapse from exhaustion and sat cross-legged breathing hard, his breath whooshing in and out.

“I can’t believe it.” He said, running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, his mind still trying to comprehend what had happened.

“I told you,” Came the reply before Seb felt him sit down next to him, knees pulled up and feet tucked under. “You’re a lot better at this than you realise. Our training is paying off.”

Sebastian turned to him and grinned, his breath becoming more normalized by the second. It could’ve been the endorphins or the lack of oxygen but oh goodness this moment. Something suddenly clicked inside his stomach, something unlocking and opening and changing and _oh no I am in trouble. _

“What are you looking at?”

Seb realised had been staring, his smile gone, replaced by slightly parted lips that he snapped back together.

“Nothing.” He immediately responded, a reflex, tearing his eyes away. Because it wasn’t nothing, not at all. It was suddenly the opposite, something small and early and newly birthed but definitely _something_. He was abruptly very aware of the exact distance between them.

He scrambled back to his feet, his cheeks hot and stained red but he could get aware with it under the guise of exercise.

That one moment, that one snapshot of time, had changed everything.

\---------------------------

“You can’t run from this.”

It was late and it was dark. They were standing in the driveway of Sebastian’s house, lit by only the soft glow of the interior lights spilling out onto the gravel. 

They were arguing. Again. This had become a common occurrence in the past few weeks, emotions running high near the end of the season. Neither of them willing to talk about the cloud of uncertainty that was hanging over them, neither of them willing to admit what they were both feeling. Wanting. Needing.

“I am not running.” Seb said hotly. “I am.. avoiding.” He turned away to hide his flushed cheeks, looking at the silhouette of an early winter tree, studying it’s naked branches, laid bare and exposed.

“It’s the same fucking thing, Seb.”

Seb visibly flinched at the profanity. He never swore. Always chiding Sebastian for being “unprofessional and childish” for swearing. And Seb would prove him right by responding with poking his tongue out and his eyes would roll and everything was normal and warm and safe.

The unmistakable _crunch crunch_ sound of feet on gravel approached from behind. He told himself he didn’t deliberately leave his hands dangling at his sides, that he wasn’t causing a scene on purpose, that that feeling in his stomach wasn’t butterflies.

He almost felt the touch on his little finger before it actually happened, like the air became charged for a split second. He felt the brush of fingers on the side of his left hand, the smallest amount of contact but oh, oh.

“Look, I’m not being unreasonable. We can find a way.”

The fingers moved, slid into his open palm, tightened. Seb stopped breathing. He still didn’t turn around, didn’t trust himself enough to. Couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t just break down, evaporate into the chill night air. Because of course he was running. 

From this. From him. 

He was terrified, scared of his own thoughts and feelings. Reduced to this frightened little child _again._ The child he had tried so hard to get rid of over the past two years. And then the fear gave way to anger and he was suddenly furious. Mad at himself for being So. Damn. Weak. How many times he’d been told _‘emotions are dangerous things, make yourself hard, Seb. Don’t let anyone in.’_ And did he listen? 

Did he fuck.

“I can’t.” He breathed, so quietly that it was almost lost on a gust of winter breeze.

_Coward._

Several beats passed, the silence so long that Seb wasn’t sure he had been heard.

“You can’t.” A statement. “Or you won’t?”

Sebastian screwed his eyes shut.

“Seb, look at me.”

He was spun around by the hand clasped in his own, forced to look up into that perfect face haloed by the lights beyond and he was pulled under again. Drowning in the undertow. Because what could he do? There was no choice to be made here. He wouldn’t be_ allowed_ to choose. This wasn’t real, this couldn’t _be_ real. He was a fool for ever entertaining the thought that he could just keep going. An idiot for ever letting it get this far.

_Just one more._

He let his eyes slide shut and they kissed for what Seb knew was the final time. Slow and soft and nothing had ever been as simultaneously full of heart-wrenching ecstasy and bone-crushing despair.

Oh gods, he was going to miss him.

\--------------------

He focused on the movements of his legs, one foot in front of the other. Tried to picture all the muscles and joints moving in tandem, all working in perfect harmony as he pushed and pushed.

It hurt, but he pressed on, ignoring the silent pained pleas. He ignores a lot of things, nowadays. Especially pain.

Mostly, he just runs.

Runs to forget. Runs to remember.

\--------------------

Foals - The Runner

“And if it hurts don't let it show  
(Step by step I'll keep it up, I won't slow I gotta go)  
While the seasons come and go  
(Every shadow step I take, I'll make sure that I won't break)  
Shadow chiaroscuro  
(While the years they come and go, I won't let myself get slow)

When I, when I fall down, fall down  
Then I know to keep on running  
Oh, when I fall down, fall down  
Won't you come to keep me running?  
Yeah, I keep on running  
Well, I keep on running

-

Fall down, when I slow down (keep on running)  
Slow down (and we keep on running)  
Oh, slow down (and we keep on running)  
When I fall down, oh (keep on running)  
We keep on running  
And we keep on running  
And we keep on running”


End file.
